The_Demons_Wife_ARC (27 page)

Claire felt
defeated as she watched Samael, wishing—praying he would glance up and see her.

He has to know
I’m on this bus…

But he sure as
Hell wasn’t acting like it. She gazed down at him, admiring his handsome
profile with the morning sun beaming through the windshield, lighting up his
face. As she stared at him, he slowly rotated his head much further than was
possible for a normal human, like a mechanical toy, until he was looking
straight at her. His eyes were huge, black pits—like holes punched into an icy
pond. A wicked smile spread across his face, exposing long, pointed teeth that
dimpled his lower lip as he looked at her and clearly mouthed the words: “Fuck
you!”

Claire’s heart
froze.

Still not
looking at the road ahead, Samael—

No!…That’s not
Samael!

—started to
speed up, pulling away from the bus.

Leaning
forward in her seat, Claire pressed her face against the window as she watched
him go. His head had now rotated a full hundred and eighty degrees, and he was
staring at her over his back, not looking at the road ahead. Before he pulled
out of sight, he raised his left hand from the steering wheel and slowly
extended his middle finger until he jabbed it in her direction. Then, still not
looking ahead but watching her with a cold, pitiless expression, he sped away.

Claire was
crushed, but at least she knew now that the demon that was tormenting her was
not on the bus. Blinking back tears, she turned away from the window. Already
what she had seen outside seemed unreal—like a fragment from a nightmare. She
slumped forward, face in her hands, and sobbed low, dry sobs that wrenched her
hard.

“I see,” the
old man said, his voice still dripping with so much kindness and understanding
it was sickening. “Problems with your boyfriend…maybe your husband, huh?”

He paused as
if expecting Claire to answer or at least acknowledge him, but as she stared
down at her lap, all she could wonder was:
Why the Hell does he think I want
to talk to him about anything?

In a sudden
rush of anger and hurt and fear—yes, genuine fear that the danger was far from
over—she raised her head and looked at the old man.

Only he wasn’t
a man.

Standing in
the aisle was a large misshapen mass that had only the vaguest indication of a
human shape. Claire’s eyes widened with shock which jacked up even higher when
she realized the old man was in reality made up of a swarming mass of wasps.
They buzzed and crawled, vibrating their wings and making loud, clicking and
crackling sounds that vibrated madly in her ears. The old man’s figure shifted
and shuddered as the mass of wasps seethed, their buzzing sounds getting
steadily louder, as if they were irritated.

Claire was
frantic to get away from him. Without thinking it through, she lurched out of
her seat and pushed past the old man. Her knees started to fold up under her,
and she bumped into him. Immediately, her hand and wrist got stung in at least
a dozen places. Her winter coat protected her arm, but her hand and wrist felt
like it had been peppered by numerous tiny heated pinpricks.

When she
looked up at the old man’s face—the wasp demon—what appeared to be his mouth
opened wide, and a swarm of wasps shot out like darts. Claire squealed and
ducked down just in time to avoid them. One caught her on the side of the face
and stung her under the eye. Whimpering, she made her way to the front of the
bus where the seat directly behind the driver was now available. The mother and
two kids were sitting a few seats back. The older child was asleep, and the
baby was nursing.

Claire sat
down, her hand covering the sting on her face. A prickling sensation washed
over the back of her neck, and she imagined dozens if not hundreds of wasps,
crawling all over her skin. When she swatted herself, the loud smacking sound
drew the attention of the young mother, but Claire didn’t dare make eye
contact.

Who’s to say
she isn’t a demon, too…that the whole bus isn’t filled with demons, determined
to torment me and wait until I slip up and damn my soul?

The thought
was like a wedge of ice slicing through her gut—

They’re
following me…tracking me…watching me all the time…maybe so I’ll lead them to
Samael
.

Hands shaking,
she took her compact from her purse and looked at the sting under her eyes. It
pained her with a fiery jab, but in reflection, she couldn’t see even the
tiniest mark.

What the Hell
is going on here?

She wished she
had the courage to look behind her at the old man—the wasp demon—but she knew
she’d scream in terror if she still saw the buzzing mass of wasps that she knew
was his true form. Instead, she sat there, frozen with fear and leaning forward
with her elbows on her knees.

She took her
cell phone from her purse and stared at it. She wanted desperately to call him.
It would be so reassuring to hear the quiet, measured calm of his voice again.

But she also
had to save her cell’s battery for emergencies. As the bus rumbled along, all
she could think was—as much as she had suffered from the cold in the forest
last night, her problems—and Samael’s problems—were far from over.

In fact, they
were just beginning.

Chapter

12

Ding Dong

The thought crossed Claire’s
mind that she might already be damned and in Hell, forced to ride on this bus
forever.

It seemed as
though the bus took every exit off the Interstate to pick up or drop off
passengers. More often than not, though, there was no one waiting or getting
off at the station. Still, they had to keep to their routine and schedule, just
in case. It was looking like all of the passengers—even the wasp man at the
back of the bus—were heading to Portland or points south.

She didn’t
know what she would do if the wasp man approached her, either on the bus or
when they arrived in Portland…

Would she be
safe in the bus terminal?

Terminal…Now
there’s a good word!

Well, she
figured she’d have to make sure she didn’t get into a situation where he could
corner her and get her alone.

But what if
she had to use the restroom, and he barged in?

Would he be
that bold?

What if he
manipulated her somehow and got her alone
?

And when they
finally arrived in Portland, what if Samael, or whoever appeared to be Samael,
was waiting there in his black Mercedes. She had no way of knowing if it was
really Samael or an imposter.

She moaned
softly and pressed her head against the headrest of the seat, wishing to God
that none of this had ever happened, but that didn’t extend to not meeting
Samael.

That she would
never change!

Demon or not,
he was the love of her life…“for better or worse”…and being trapped on a bus
with a wasp demon was right up there with “worst.”

There were so
many infinitesimally small things that could have gone differently, and she
would never have met Samael…or he might have noticed Sally first…or if she, not
Sally, had gone to the restroom in the restaurant, then Ron LaPierre might have
attacked Sally, not her.

Infinite
possibilities…especially when you’re dealing with a demon, but it all came down
to this—

It doesn’t
matter because this is what’s happening now, and come Hell or high water, she
had to deal with it…or else.

“Right,” she
whispered, squeezing her eyes tightly. “Or else…what?”

Feeling
somewhat secure sitting directly behind the driver, she settled. The monotonous
hum of the bus’s wheels on pavement soon lulled her, and she drifted into a
hazy half-sleep. Before she settled down, she found the courage to look into
the driver’s huge rearview mirror and check on the old man—the wasp demon. He
was sitting straight up in his seat, not hunched over, as she had expected. His
hands were folded in his lap as he stared forward, straight at her. He looked
perfectly normal…except for that creepy stare. The mask of wasps—or had she
seen his true form and was looking at the mask now?—was gone.

Claire didn’t
like him staring at her, but what could she do?

Telling
herself she was safe, at least right now, she cuddled up as best she could and
drowsed. One thing that kept coming back to her mind…buzzing like a bothersome
wasp…was wondering what Samael’s true shape was.

Is what I
see…what I love…a mask, too?

At least with
her head below the top of the seatback, the wasp demon couldn’t see her
although she sensed that still—somehow—he could see her through the cushioned
seats.

Fuck him, she
thought. Fuck him and all of them!

She opened her
eyes in time to see the sign for Waterville flash by her window, and she
smiled, thinking, I may make it after all.

~ * ~

And make it
back she did. At some point in the trip, she fell asleep again. She was amazed
that she had, considering how wound up she was, but she was also wrung out from
being awake more than twenty-four hours straight.

She awoke with
a start when the bus’s air brakes made a loud gasping sound that hit her ears
like the blast of a foghorn. The sudden deceleration ripped her from her sleep,
and she let out a little squeak of surprise as she shook her head, blinked her
eyes, amazed to see that the bus was on the exit ramp for Congress Street,
heading to downtown Portland.

Home sweet
home, she thought as the bus roared past the old, familiar landmarks—streets
and buildings that told her she had made it. The bus driver clicked on the
intercom and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re arriving in Portland. The time
is two fifteen, so we’re a little ahead of schedule. If you had friends or
family members meeting you here, you might want to give them a call and let ‘em
know you’re a bit early.”

He clicked off
the microphone before taking a wide, sweeping turn off the ramp.

The relief
Claire experienced was indescribable even though she knew the danger was far
from over.

If anything,
it was only going to get worse, but she was sure she could face it as long as
she was with Samael. She was almost frantic to see him, wondering—hoping—that
he had gotten to the bus terminal early. She dug out her phone and dialed his
number, relieved when he answered it on the second ring.

“Hello,
darlin’,” he said.

“We’re almost
at the terminal,” she said, pushing aside any paranoid thoughts that this might
not be him. Hearing his voice and knowing this had to be the real Samael made
her feel as though everything she had gone through over the past twenty-four
plus hours would all be worth it when she was finally safe in his arms, feeling
his body pressing against hers.

Before she
could say anything more, her Call Waiting beeped. She scowled when she saw it
was her parents—probably her mother, worried as usual—calling. The bus heaved
and swayed as it navigated the narrow streets of the city, making its ponderous
way to the Greyhound station on outer Congress Street.

“Hold on a
sec. It’s my folks.”

“I’m on my way.
See you in a few,” he said and then hung up.

Claire clicked
to take the incoming call from her parents.

“Hi Mom,” she
said, trying to sound more chipper and bright than she felt.

“Well,
finally,” her mother said. She sounded like she had just run up a flight of
stairs and was winded. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Sure.
I’m fine,” Claire said. She almost added ‘Why do you ask?’ but decided not to
encourage any more probing than necessary.

Her phone
beeped three times, and she said, “My battery’s almost dead, so can you make it
quick?”

“Yes. Your dad
was talking to Wilfred Henry today. He said something about you taking a bus
out of town first thing this morning. Is that true?”

Busted!

But she had
known it would happen.

Claire took a
breath, trying to collect her thoughts, but there wasn’t much she could come up
with…unless she told the absolute truth.

But if she
told the truth, her mother would worry all the more and probably have her
committed. Nobody would believe the truth...unless they had seen what she had
seen.

“I—ah. Yeah,
we had some car trouble, and rather than wait around to get the car fixed, I
decided to take the bus back home while—” She almost choked, saying the name
because she knew her folks hadn’t met the real Samael after all. “Samael
decided to have it fixed.”

“He’s still
here in town?”

“No. We were
down the road a ways.”

“Where?”

“It doesn’t
matter,” she said, hoping to end the interrogation.

Her phone
beeped three times again.

“We’re fine,
Mom. Look, my phone’s gonna die soon. I’ll call you once I get back—home.” She
hesitated on the word home because she wasn’t exactly sure what “home” was.

“You mean to
tell me you thought it was easier—it made sense to sit in a bus station all
night—rather than come home?”

“I didn’t want
to bother you—”

The phone
finally died as the bus heaved heavily to the right as it took a corner onto
Congress Street. The lurching motion almost threw Claire out of her seat. She
grabbed the seat in front of her to hold on. Up ahead was the bus station with
another huge bus, waiting out front as people milled around, getting ready to
board.

“Look. Ma.
Everything’s okay. I swear,” she said into the dead phone. Then she closed it
and slid it into her purse.

Yeah, right
, she thought.

~ * ~

The relief of
Samael holding her tightly in his embrace was almost too much for Claire to
handle. She burst into tears and pressed her face against his chest, nuzzling
into his neck and deeply inhaling his scent—smoky and musky.  Tears carved warm
traces down her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop shuddering.

“Don’t worry,”
he whispered as he stroked her hair, cupping the back of her head. “You’re safe
now.”

The
steel-tight muscles of his arms crushed her against his chest, making it
difficult for her to catch her breath. Tiny white dots of light sizzled as they
zigzagged across her vision. She was afraid she might pass out, so she pushed
him away and leaned back, looking up into his eyes.

How do I know
it’s really you? She wanted to ask, but the light in his gold-flecked eyes and
the smile on his face was proof enough that this was the real Samael.

She wondered
how she could have been deceived so easily.

“You have any
more trouble along the way?”

Biting her
lower lip, Claire shook her head no, but then she told him about the wasp
demon. Samael said he knew who that was but wouldn’t elaborate. She also told
him about seeing “him” out the bus window, the imposter who had driven by in
his Mercedes and flipped her off, but other than that—no, no problems.

“You didn’t
touch him, did you?” he asked.

“Who?”

Samael
hesitated, and then said, “The wasp demon” as if he didn’t want—or dare—say
his…or its…real name.

“I brushed
against him when I was trying to get away from him. I felt a few stings, but
other than that…No.”

Samael nodded
as though deep in thought.

“So what do we
do now?” she asked. Her voice trembled as she exhaled.

They walked
across the parking lot to Samael’s car, their arms wrapped around each other so
tightly they staggered a little. Anyone seeing them would have guessed they
were madly in love—which they were—and being reunited after a long separation.

“We go to my
place,” Samael said.

“Is it safe
there?”

Claire stopped
him on the sidewalk and turned to face him.

“It will be,”
he said.

She stared
into his gold-flecked eyes, feeling like she had truly come home.

“They’re after
you, not me,” she said, her heart filled with worry.

Samael was
silent for a moment.

“So,” she
continued, “the only real danger I’m in is if I get in their way, right?”

Samael looked
to one side and then shrugged. Finally, he said, “Well, not entirely.”

“What do you
mean by that?”

“I mean it’s a
lot more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“He’s taken a
little part of you, and you probably have a part of him still on you.”

 “Then I’ll
take a shower and wash it off…with you,” she added with a flirty wink.

“This is
serious, Claire. If they find an opening…if they see a chance to claim your
soul, they’ll do it. And now that you touched…him— They can get inside your
head. They’ll try to convince you that giving them your soul will save me.”

Not gonna
happen
,
Claire thought as a shiver ran up her spine. She felt like she could start
crying and never stop, but she had cried enough over the last twenty-four hours
when they had been apart. Now that they were together again, she wanted him to
see just how tough a “County Girl” could be.

“So we have to
be extra careful, then,” she said. “Are you sure we’re safe at your place?”

Samael gave
his tight smile as he nodded and said, “I have help.”

Claire was
bursting to ask him what he meant by that, but they had arrived at his car. He
opened the passenger’s door for her. An amazing flood of relief swept over her
as she slid onto the car seat, and he closed the door firmly. As she watched
him walk around the car to get in on the driver’s side, she noticed her iPod,
right where she had left it yesterday, on their drive up to Houlton.

She nearly
threw the car door open, got out, and ran as far away from him as she could.